Over Ramen
by flipstahhz
Summary: "We're closed," Daisuke said. Halfway out of the kitchen, he saw her standing at the entrance. His throat dried up. Catherine's clear blue eyes lifted to meet his, lips curving upwards in a tantalising, yet sad smile. "Even for me?" Taking back his words, Daisuke replied, "Come in." So she did. [ONE-SHOT]


_if you're not busy,_

 _can you be with me tonight?_

 _oh baby, I don't want much,_

 _just talk with me_

 _,_

(Baby Baby - WINNER)

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 **OVER RAMEN  
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 _by flipstahhz  
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To Daisuke, ramen was his specialty.

Ramen was his life.

Nobody understood his obsession with it. When he was a kid, he had gone down southwest on a family trip to Fukuoka. It was there that, at a tender age of eight, he had been introduced to Tonkatsu Ramen.

His mouth watered just thinking about it. Even to this day he could still taste its essence in his mouth, a tingling, savoury epiphany that made his taste-buds dance and frolic in delight. Tonkatsu ramen _was_ enlightenment. The smooth noodles. The beef's juiciness, cooked to absolute perfection. Everything about the ramen was flawless, and nothing compared to it - even his mother's omurice (which was saying something because his mother's omurice was _legendary)._

Therefore, it was only inevitable that the Tonkatsu became Daisuke's favourite broth, his number one food, his _everything._ Tonkatsu ramen opened a whole new world to Daisuke. He knew that after devouring the ramen, the only thing that resonated to Daisuke was that he _had_ to be _immersed_ in it.

By immersed, it wasn't like he meant he wanted to bathe in ramen (but then again if prompted, he would dive in it). What Daisuke meant was that he truly wanted to know _everything_ about ramen, to learning which dough made the best noodles, what strategy was the finest when brewing the best broth, and how to recreate the exact meaty juiciness he had tasted in Fukuoka.

Most of childhood involved visiting different ramen places, testing different flavours, taking notes on how chefs cooked the noodles, and listing the pros and cons to every restaurant. His aim was to make _the_ best ramen restaurant in Japan.

He had taken his friends regularly to ramen restaurants to study, and later question their input on the flavours of each restaurant they'd visit. It was to the point that practically _all_ of his friends had gotten sick of the noodles, which resulted in him visiting the restaurants - mostly - by himself. Not that he minded; Daisuke was _that_ dedicated.

If he hadn't immersed himself, he wouldn't be where he was today. And by today, Daisuke was considered a very successful man in Ginza. His endless efforts had paid off over the years. His staff were hard-workers too. He had hired well, as his employees were all generally down to earth, and had impeccable customer service skills. His restaurant was ranked on the top, and also applauded for it's reasonable, and not too expensive, pricing. Next month he was even going to open a sister restaurant down in Osaka.

As successful as he was, each day was taking a toll on Daisuke. He wasn't as fit as he used to be, not even having the time to drop by the gym or play a casual game of soccer with his boys.

After the last pan was dried, he leaned back and stretched, relieving the tightness of his cramped muscles. It was only him in the kitchen. Daisuke had stayed back to scrub everything down to perfection and it had been a blessing in disguise to have the kitchen to himself for once.

Lately he had been attending all these business meetings to expand his restaurant, so being back to square one, and in the kitchen was quite therapeutic to him. Usually one of his trusted employees would close the restaurant, but the person scheduled on for that night had called in sick, leaving Daisuke no choice. The other employees had been junior kitchen-hand, and the other senior had a twenty-first party to go to.

 _Twenty-one._

Daisuke grimaced. He was two years shy from thirty. Thinking about himself seven years ago brought back odd memories. It had been a partying phase. Lots of booze. He had been poor, saving all his money from his tedious telemarketing jobs to put money aside for his restaurant. He had lived off instant ramen. It hadn't been ideal (he hated instant ramen), but it was enough to make him strive on, to keep him moving forward. His parents thought his dream was far-fetched, but it was his older sister - Jun - who stuck up for him and encouraged him to keep going.

His sister had always been his role-model, but he never told anybody that. However, he had made sure that it was his sister who had tried the first ramen bowl when he opened the restaurant. The tears in her eyes were enough to know how much she appreciated him, as much as how he appreciated her.

Despite his success, sometimes Daisuke wondered about the other people in his life. How they were doing. He had been so focused on his goal, that he had lost people along the way. Was Taichi's coping being a pro soccer player? What was the name of Takeru and Hikari's youngest? Was Miyako still giving Ken a hard time? Had Iori finally come out?

He whistled to himself, taking off his apron. Perhaps when everything with the restaurant in Osaka was settled, he'd put some time aside to call them all. As Daisuke was about to turn off the lights to the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes when he heard the front door open, with sharp footsteps following inside the restaurant after.

"We're closed," Daisuke said.

He strode halfway out of the kitchen, and then saw her standing at the entrance. Immediately, his throat dried up.

Catherine's clear blue eyes lifted to meet his, lips curving upwards in a tantalising, yet sad smile. "Even for me?"

Taking back his words, Daisuke replied, "Come in."

So she did.

Nothing changed with Catherine. She was one of his constants. She'd drift in and out of his life whenever the hell she wanted, always leaving him with an even deeper, bitter mark whenever she'd go. Her hair remained unforgivingly long. Lipstick dark red and on point, while her fragrance subtle, yet spicy. She had always been like that; nice to the eyes, but deadly when pushed. And boy, did she liked to be pushed.

Daisuke ran his hands through his oily hair. All he wanted that night was to retire home, have a good hot shower and go to sleep. And just by Catherine being here, she had altered his plan. He looked like an ugly mess compared to her.

She strode over to him, hand pressing against his cheek, eyes concerned, "Have you been getting any sleep?"

"When are you leaving?" He asked, turning away from her touch.

Catherine frowned. "Shouldn't you be saying, ' _I've missed you and I can't believe you're back_?'"

"But you're going to leave again."

She always did, and she didn't deny it when she replied to him, "In three nights."

Daisuke noted her attire, still clothed in her creaseless uniform. The black dress pronounced her tall, model-like figure, red belt clinging around her thin waist. Her height was conspicuous from her stockings that covered her long legs, and the scarf was tied perfectly around her neck to precision. The only thing that did not match her uniformed appearance was how she had undone her tight bun, allowing her long ash blond hair to cascade down in waves. Countless of times Daisuke had found himself lost in a sea of ash blond.

"Long flight?" Daisuke mumbled. He hated how she tilted her head back, eyelashes batting as she gazed up at him. "You could say that."

"Shouldn't you go back to your hotel and get some rest then?"

"I wanted food."

Daisuke chuckled.

He also hated that Catherine always chose him to visit right after she landed back in Japan. She could have easily bothered her cousins, Yamato and Takeru, but she said that she enjoyed his company the most. Daisuke often wondered why she couldn't enjoy more than his company, but then he'd be being hypocritical. He was like her too. They weren't like the rest of their friends...perhaps that was why they had always gotten along.

Daisuke turned his back, heading into the kitchen. He lit up the stove, searched for the smallest pot, then placed it over the fire. He then proceeded to pour a large portion of pork broth into the pot while cooking half a serving of noodles inside another pot. Catherine preferred broth over noodles. She had once stated that she couldn't have too many noodles because she wanted to maintain her figure for work. Daisuke called bullshit on it because he had seen her wolf down two meals at McDonalds and not gain a single pound the next day. Her metabolism was one that even he envied.

A giggle startled him.

Daisuke looked up to find Catherine staring at him. Her face was visible in the opening between the kitchen and the restaurant, where his employees would slide ramen bowls to have a final check before serving it to their customers. She had pulled a seat over, resting her head on her hand as she gazed over him, smile still prominent.

"What?"

"You bite your bottom lip when you concentrate. Still cute as ever, Motomiya."

Daisuke smirked, glancing back at the broth. "And you're prone to biting your bottom lip whenever we're in bed."

She laughed.

After concocting the ramen, Daisuke placed it on the bar counter. He folded his arms together, leaning back on the wall and smirking as she her face lit up. Her chopsticks scooped the noodles, slurping a few strands up. She let out a sigh, before dipping the soup spoon into the broth, sipping the fluid in ecstasy. "When will you marry me?"

Daisuke chuckled at their ongoing joke. "When you stop using me for my ramen."

They'd marry each other when they reached thirty. That's what the decided as teenagers. As the years faded by, Daisuke semi-hoped that the joke would become reality, but once one has reached a certain level in friendship, it was hard to upgrade and rebel over a series of teasing to take one seriously. Daisuke would be lying to himself if he hadn't thought of Catherine as a love interest because, well, he _did_ happen to love her. How could he not?

Draining the remainder of the broth, Daisuke watched as she delicately landed on her toes, staggering towards the fridge. She passed him a glass bottle of beer, which he opened, then she accepted it back and poured two glasses for them. They did a 'cheers', froth almost seeped over as Daisuke quickly drank from it before the fluid tipped over.

Bottle after bottle, they drank.

It released the lethargy, his muscles loosened. Catherine's calming effect had always been contagious. Daisuke roared in laughter as she curtsied to him on the counter. He hopped onto it, as he spun her around to a non-existent tune, both dancing in a drunk frenzy. Why was she so beautiful?

Faces flashed, red from the liquor, they finally sat back onto the stools, bodies close to each other. He rested her head on his shoulder, stroking her long hair. He sighed. "Why don't you just stay in Tokyo?"

He felt her smile. "I don't belong here."

"Why?"

"To everybody I'm just a gaijin. A nobody. They see my hair, my eyes, and automatically think that I'm not from here. And when in France, my French is so lousy that the locals give me disappointed looks."

"Since when do you care about what people think?"

Her voice broke. "Maybe sometimes I do, Daisuke…"

The conversation was different that night. They weren't just fooling around, drinking. That night they had chosen the deep and meaningful route, talking about topics they did not like talking about when sober. The type of conversation that was always kept private between the two of them.

"Where do you belong then?" Daisuke questioned her. "Up in the clouds? Going from country to country? Don't you get sick of flying, the shift work, the time differences?"

He was also different to her. Daisuke was disciplined. He liked to plan ahead. His head wasn't polluted with wanderlust, he relied on structure and perfectionism. Sure, he was easy-going, but when he knew what he want, he had self-restraint, was firm and stubbornly stuck to what he wanted and believed in. He never understood how Catherine was flitting from city to city, pirouetting around the globe, as the years passed, as they got older. She had no foundation on the ground, and it worried Daisuke. It worried him a lot.

"You get used to it," she finally replied to him.

"Will you do it forever though?"

She slurred, " _Forever_?"

"Running away, Catherine."

She took her head off from his shoulder, leaning forward to read the expression on his face. Catherine could read him as well as he could read her. Sometimes she wondered whether it bordered between concern, love or friendship. Daisuke could be easy to read at times, other times he was hard - focused on his career above anything else. Never her.

"The divorce was two years ago. You can start over," Daisuke kept speaking because she hadn't responded.

That, and because he didn't want to get trapped in her blue eyes again. They really knew how to make his knees weak, and to do thing let go of temptation. Catherine had always been his temptation, yet she was always out of his reach.

"He cheated." Catherine said, coldly. "I don't think I can trust anybody again, Daisuke."

"Then why are you here?" Daisuke brushed the stray strand of hair away from her eyes. He wasn't surprised when she straddled him on his seat. His breathing became laboured as he rested his hand on the small of her back. He stared at her, unblinkingly, bemused.

She whispered, "Because I never lost trust in you."

He leaned in, mouth pressing against hers. She sighed into the kiss and he gently wiped the tears that fell from her soft cheeks. Daisuke could never _not_ get enough of her. He could never turn her down. He never wanted her to leave him.

But she always did.

She wasn't there when he woke up alone, in his apartment. He didn't regret the mistake he did, another mistake to add to the endless mistakes that Catherine invoked in him to do. If anything, he'd keep making the mistake over and over again. Catherine was always lonely, but whenever Daisuke woke up the morning after and found that she had gone, Daisuke always felt lonelier.

He held the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at himself for putting himself into this situation yet again. Tears blurred his vision, that he thought he was seeing things when he saw her walk out of the steaming bathroom, buttoning up her uniform.

"You're here," he spoke, voice hoarse.

Daisuke brushed his eyes, pretending that his eyes were blurry from the sunlight that shimmered through the thin, fragile curtains. She was smoothening the end of her dress, attempting to look as immaculate as she was before he had torn it off her.

A weak, unsure smile that she had made the wrong decision to stay. She gazed at Daisuke, reluctant, and awkwardly replying, "I thought you'd want to grab breakfast?"

He turned around, buried his face into the pillow and laughed.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I've been waiting for you to say that to me for a long time."

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(a/n) I missed writing Daisuke. I missed writing Daisuke x Catherine. And the song I listened to triggered me to write it. I hope you liked it/this odd pairing. Thanks for reading this one-shot :)


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